


Drifters: Another World, Another War

by Mulder, TalesofNine



Category: Drifters (Manga)
Genre: America, Gen, History, Pirates, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8534650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mulder/pseuds/Mulder, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesofNine/pseuds/TalesofNine
Summary: The conflict between the warring Drifters and ENDs transcends time and worlds. Witness the birth of a new front of the conflict. More figures from across history and legend are thrown against each other. New faces, a new world and yet the same old story.





	1. Chapter 1

_Prologue: Fall Of A Devildog_

 

Iwo Jima, 19th February 1945

 

Iwo Jima a barren island of sulph ur  and rock wa s the final key gateway between the mainland of the Japanese Empire and securing the safe passage for American bombers to unleash their fury upon it. Both sides knew what was at stake and tens of thousands of Japanese soldiers stood ready to defend their soil while hundreds of thousands of US Marines rushed to meet them in battle. The black sands of Iwo Jima transformed into the face hell itself the roar of the sea was replaced with the roar of bullets, explosion, screams and shouts as the soldiers of two mighty nations clashed. 

 

Among st the thousands present there was one who could have avoided it all. He had a way out a chance to live a life of peace away from it all. But he made a choice, he could not bring himself to abandon his fellow marines, not now, not ever. Gunnery Sergeant John Basilone  was no stranger to battle but the brutality of Iwo Jima was shocking even to a veteran like himself. But time could not be spared to be shocked and horrified by the sights around him so he fell back to the two things that had served him so well before. Training and instinct, leading a machine gun section he carefully moved over the dark sand ducking and weaving as he made his way toward his men who were ducking inside of a crater. He moved as fast as his legs would take him jumping into the crater and laying down amongst them.

 

“What's the hold up? We need to keep in moving!” He shouted.

 

“We're pinned gunny!” A private shouted. “ There's a blockhouse up ahead. It's cutting us to ribbons!” 

 

B asilone swore to himself before deciding to take a look for himself. Ever so slowly he peered over the crater and as expected their was a large block of concrete sticking out of the sand with a machine gun firing wildly at the advancing marines. With so many targets around the gunner  didn't spare the time to take a shot at the peering sergeant. He quickly lowered his head into the crater thinking carefully of his next action. 

 

“Alright, we have to take it out,” He declared. “Tatum, Eversmann get that 30, cal set up when I make the call let em have it. Anyone got a satchel?”

 

“Aye gunny!”

 

“Give it here I need it,” Basilone ordered. “Pass me some grenades.”

 

“What's the call gunny?”

 

“I'm going up, you all suppress. Once that thing goes up get your asses moving clear?”

 

“AYE GUNNY!”

 

Basilone nodded once his marines scrambled into position. The machine gun was carefully placed onto it's tripod at the gunners prepped. The rest of them faithfully moved toward the edge of the crater with grim determination. Basilone stood crouched ready with his weapon shouldered,  he tensed himself listening to the sound the machine gun waiting for the Japanese gunner to reload. The familiar woodpecker noise of the Jap Type-3 machine gun shooting away suddenly came to an end after a long burst. 

 

“SUPPRESSIVE!”

 

With Basilone's cry the 30. cal opened up on the blockhouse joined by several marines letting loose with their weapons. John rushed forward through a hailstorm of bullets and mort a r rounds exploding around him  he didn't have time to think and had to force himself to keep breathing. He could feel his heart pounding through his chest as he ran toward the concrete stronghold before him. When he reached the mouth of the blockhouse he could hear the ringing of bullets as they flew through the air and slammed into the concrete causing chunks to burst into the air. The 30. cal ceased firing but a few of the riflemen kept up the cover as Basilone inched ever so slowly toward the mouth. 

 

He could hear the machine gun crew within shouting orders and swift comments were made in Japanese, he couldn't understand the language but it didn't take a genius to guess they were urging the gunner to reload faster. By the time he was in place the Type-3 opened up again this time targeting his marines, they ducked back into cover but by then he no longer needed the suppression. He pulled a cord on the satchel charge and quickly hurled it into the mouth before the gunners within had time to react. There was a scream interrupted by the explosion which sent a gust of smoke bursting from the mouth.

 

But that wasn't the end of it, Basilone quickly followed with a grenade and he could hear loose ammunition catching fire and exploding within. It would be arrogant to assume the blockhouse was silenced if there's one thing to be respected about the enemy it was their immeasurable stubbornness to not die until you put them down for good. Basilone quickly waved to his marines to advanced and dashed around the blockhouse climbing a hill finding the entrance to a small trench dug between the blockhouse and other position.

 

“BANZAI!”

 

As if on cue the survivors of the satchel charge and grenade came rushing out of blockhouse entrance. Basilone wasted no time quickly shooting down an officer who rushed out with a sword held high letting loose a loud battle cry he kept moving determinedly forward before a final shot sent him falling to his knees. Basilone could have sworn he heard the man whisper a name before collapsing.

 

_No time to think._

 

Shots rang out from the bunker prompting him to duck down. Someone had to good sense to not run out but they weren't fast enough to hit. John wasted no time quickly pulling out another pair of grenades  pulling the pins and waiting for just the right moment before tossing them into the entrance of the blockhouse. Another blast, more screams, then silence, Basilone waited for a brief time before raising himself up to see if anything else moved. But nothing moved within the blockhouse that meant only one thing. 

 

“Clear!” He called out. “We're clear, get moving!”

 

With the blockhouse clear marines popped up from their cover and ran forward dashing on the now opened position. When Basilone turned around he could see their prize in the distance. The airfield, the one thing that so many had died for to se i ze. The goal was in sight and that meant they were close to victory, close to home. As the marines advanced a tank came into view rolling up the sand to advance upon the airfield, the name 'Old Faithful' written with chalk on the barrel. Basilone waved it down causing the driver to stop as he stepped aboard, a tanker peeked out with an eyebrow raise. 

 

“Terrain's rough up ahead!” He shouted. “We'll guide you in!”

 

The tanker gave a simple thumbs up in response while his machine gun section quickly marched behind the tank for cover. Basilone quickly joined them grabbing the phone placed on the rear end of the tank so he could communicate more efficiently with the crew within. Once they were in placed the tough Sherman rolled forward while they slowly jogged behind it.

 

The advance toward the airfield was no easier than getting off the beach. Around every corner a new machine gun nest or sniper post would appear and lay down fire, taking a life before the marines and the stubborn 'Old Faithful' replied with extreme prejudice. Japanese Infantry cut off from the rest would stage one of their infamous 'Banzai charges' some more successful than others but eventually cut down by the marine's firepower advantage. But their efforts were rewarded the airfield grew ever closer and taking it on the first day would spell a decisive victory in the battle to come.

 

“Let's take that airfield!” John shouted. “This is it, give it too em!”

 

Seeking better cover and clear of the rough terrain, they abandoned the comfort of 'Old Faithful' and carefully ran toward the edge of the airfield. The Japanese had pulled back ready to fight with their lives for it. The marines paused for a long moment waiting for their reinforcements to get into the position. John said nothing to his team, they knew what to do. Get the machine gun set up, save their buddies he drilled it into their heads back home while they were training.

 

The roar of tank engines and the whooping of battle cries signaled the advanced. Basilone charged forward with his section the false silence was immediately broken by the roar of battle once again. He kept moving shutting it all out the screams, the cracks of bullets flying past, the banging of explosions he kept his focus on moving forward ducking and weaving the avoid that which came too close for comfort. He couldn't afford to think about how tired he felt from running and fighting. Ignored how terrified he was as his heart pounded. Resisted thinking of home, of his family, of his wife.

 

_Wait_

 

Basilone was given pause. Something wasn't right, his mind was suddenly filled with thoughts that he pushed out when fighting. His memory was racing as if images were flashing before him, birthdays, childhood playtimes, his parents, joining the army and then the marines, Manilla the island he loved so much. Lena, beautiful Lena Reggi Basilone was standing in front of him with a radiant smile. That's when he noticed that he was no longer on the ground, time was slowly his brain catching up with the world around him. He could see his marines around him with horrified looks on their faces, he saw the ground of the airfield below him, he saw the smoke of the explosion that had sent him airborne.

 

Then all too suddenly he fell to the ground. His breathing became rough and ragged, he started to feel it pain overwhelming pain. More memories came and went as if trying to tear him away from the reality of it. John tried to reassure himself, he'd seen marines get hit before it was nothing new a corpsman would pick him up as soon as they could get to him and patch him up. But he realize d he couldn't feel the pain anymore. It was fading away like a wave on the beach, he swore he could hear it, the ocean, the great blue sea it looked so beautiful every time he saw it. He thought about finding a nice island one where he could build a house, maybe get a boat like he promised-

 

“Lena,” He mouthed. “Lena..”

 

* * *

 

 

He took a sharp breath. Like waking up from a nightmare.

 

John felt the pain once again. He could feel his body aching and groaned, he opened his eyes and found he was face flat on the floor. Confusion was the initial reaction the floor was pure white not even a simple mark on it. He groaned again as he stood up, he could feel his body throbbing where the pain once existed. John slowly stammered to his feet and found himself wishing that he hadn't.

 

Wherever he was it was like nowhere he had ever been in the world. It was a massive hallway that seemed to stretch into infinity along the hall were doors, nothing but doors of all shapes and sizes they were chaotically assembled with no semblance of order. Basilone could only stare dumbstruck unable to understand what was happening until his eyes settled upon of all things a desk.

 

On the desk was a man smoking and reading a newspaper. John slowly urged himself forward fighting the pain to struggle towards the paper reader who seemed oblivious to his strange surroundings. John was fighting himself to move his body protested and his breathing was ragged by the time he reached the desk he had to brace himself upon it. The smoking man slowly lowered his newspaper and glanced up at Basilone with a blank expression. Finally he responded to John's presence by placing the newspaper down and pulling out a pen.

 

“You're late,” He muttered. “There's much to be done.”

 

“Wh-who the hell, are you?” John wheezed. “Where am I?”

 

The man said nothing and started furiously taking notes. His expression remained neutral, John was too tired to protest being ignored and could only looking pleadingly for answers. The man looked up once again and simply shrugged.

 

“There's no time for that now. You have somewhere to be.”

 

He looked to his left and the doors along the side of the endless hall began to move. Initially quite rapidly until it slowly came to a stop settling on a bamboo door with plant life growing around it. The door swung open revealing nothing but darkness. Basilone's eyes widened and he attempted to move away but a force began pulling at him dragging him forward without mercy. Before he could so much as shout the door had consumed him and all he could make out was the sight of the smoking man quietly watching before returning to his newspaper.

 

Everything was black again. But he swore that he could hear the sound of the sea...


	2. Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Chapter 1: New Beginning 

A warm breeze passed through the air. When John's eyes opened he was greeted with blinding sunlight, immediately he threw a hand into the air. He could feel sand underneath his back and could hear the loud yet peaceful movement of the ocean. There was no doubt of his current location, a beach, but what beach was the question. Basilone slowly sat himself up and saw the ocean before him, his first thought was that he was still on Iwo Jima but that guess was immediately shot down. A pure empty beach of yellow sand surrounded him and he could see a lush forest behind that from the sound alone was rich with life. Wherever he was, it was certainly not Iwo Jima. 

He felt a sudden sharp pain, wincing at he looked down and saw the source. A pair of bleeding wounds had finally made each other known, one on his chest and another on his leg. The marine wasted no time shrugging off the equipment he was carrying on his back to dig out an essential item, the first aid pouch. He was no corpsman but he knew enough from both training and experience to know how to bandage himself. It was a rush job and was not a pretty sight, but the bandages stopped the bleeding and a bit of morphine helped ease the pain.

After sitting and staring out at the ocean for a long time, John decided to stand and gets his bearings. If he was going to be stranded on an island in the middle of nowhere with no idea of how he got there, he might as well get a look around while he was at it. He walked along the beach for a brief moment, in was a tiny patch of sand shorter nearly the length of a baseball field if he had to guess. There was little to see except a few other small islands in the distance, no doubt this island was part of a chain.

Once he was done with looking around the beach he moved toward the small tropical forest within, he could hear the noisy wildlife as crabs scattered around the beach and small mice dashed into the brush. John checked his equipment, his pack was in good condition despite the mortar blast he endured. His carbine, pistol and the ever useful ka-bar knife were in proper condition. 

“Alright, move it out.” John said more to reassure himself than anything. 

As he entered the island forest his mind was racing with questions that could not be answered. Had he died on Iwo Jima? He felt himself slipping away and saw it life flash before him. Who was the smoking man at the desk? That man seemed to be quite aware of his situation but had refused to answer a single question. Where was he? That one was a complete mystery but perhaps he could find answer. Thus the marine was left with the only thing he could do to ease his mind. 

Focus and keep your head on a swivel 

He felt like he was back on Guadalcanal the lush jungle was completely alien when the New York native first stepped foot off the landing craft. The only difference now was that he was alone no longer surrounded by fellow marines moving on orders from one place to the next. That realization brought a sudden feeling of isolation, John struggled to hold it together but the sinking feeling in his gut was overwhelming. He took a sharp breath and leaned next to a tree for cover, the vegetation was nearly choking as his imagination began plaguing him with paranoid fears and sounds that were not actually real. 

Despite the natural beauty that surrounded him it was a small comfort compared to the overwhelming situation. Moving was the only comfort at this point if he kept moving maybe he could find something, anything that would give him some answers maybe even give him new purpose. It was a pipe dream but one worth chasing. He needing something to do anything that would keep him from stopping if he stopped now he wasn't sure if he could will himself to keep moving. It was hard to tell how big the forest was, the island was much longer than it was wide the terrain was mostly flat it was almost a paradise if it wasn't for the circumstances that brought him there. 

As Basilone's mind attempted to plague him with worries and concerns he couldn't afford to dwell on, he nearly committed the ultimate sin of a warrior. He had let his guard down, it wasn't immediate but the moment he took a step it hit him like a blast of wind. A voice, distant but close enough to be audible, training kicked in like an instinct. Basilone threw himself to the ground carbine raised listening intently. It a single voice loud and joyous, he could have sworn he heard laughing as well. Deciding to get closer John crawled forward inching ever so carefully toward the source. The closer he got the louder the voices grew, he swore he could make out two voices. That's when he could hear it, the loudest voice was beginning to sing a sudden tune. 

“It's time to go now, Haul away your anchor, Haul away your anchor, It's our sailing time!” 

Basilone took some solace that the voice was speaking English. Stuck in the middle of nowhere with no idea where he was at least his only company was someone he could perhaps talk too. The age old lesson of don't talk to strangers rang through his mind but he had little other choice in the matter. It was either go mad surviving inside a tropical forest alone. Or make contact with new faces, besides if he had a pair of trusty friends to protect him in things went south. 

The marine stood up and approached the clearing in the forest, what awaited him was perhaps the most shocking sight of the day. Like a scene out of a children's storybook, an ancient looking wooden ship was resting on the sand trapped in the shallow waters. The sails were gently flapping in the wind and the hull rocked ever so slightly when the gentle waves brushed against it. The voices were louder still the singer had seemingly lost the melody he was sing instead settling for loud musical grunting. 

What Basilone noticed above all else was the black flag that showed a skeleton with a spear dangling it over a bright red bleeding heart. The vessel was not particularly large, especially compared to the giant US naval ships that John was familiar with but it was clearly built for combat, though he was no naval expert he could identify the familiar sight of cannons sticking out of the side. It was a pirate ship straight out of a story, or one of comics many of his fellow marines were fond of reading. After a moment of staring dumbstruck at the bizarre sight, he decided to press on with making contact standing around wouldn't do him any good. 

“Hey!” Basilone called out. 

The voices fell silent but John kept approaching feeling the slightest urge to tighten the grip on his carbine if they wanted a fight he'd give 'em hell. As he grew closer he saw movement up ahead, he kept his weapon at the ready but lowered just in case. A large figure appeared stepping unto the highest part of the deck. Basilone was almost expecting it but it still surprised him to see the large man staring in his direction with clothing straight out of a history book and sporting a massive black beard. He couldn't tell the man's expression but when he began waving the tension seemed to die down. 

“Well don't just stand there lad,” The man said. “Get over here! I could use more guest!” 

John took that as a good signed and began jogging toward the wooden vessel. When he got to the side he saw a name written in recognizable, if somewhat strange, looking letters 'Adventure' in dark bold paint stood out against the brown hull. A rope ladder descended toward him dropping into the water with a splash. John sighed it was a familiar process but not a comfortable one. Gripping tight he ascended as skillfully as he could in his wounded state, when he got close to the edge a pair of two arms hoisted him onto the deck of the Adventure. 

There John was met with the owners of the two voices, the first was the tall bearded man, his height all the more imposing when up close and personal. The other 'guest' that John could assume he was referring too was also wearing archaic clothing but far different from the pirate getup. This other man was wearing ancient-looking knight armor with a helmet sitting not far from where they stood. He too was tall with dark hair but with a much smaller beard but a noticeable mustache. 

It was a bizarre sight as the men helped him aboard, and they moved back toward the center of the deck. John noticed several empty bottles laying around and realized that this odd pair were in the middle of a drinking session. At first the pirate-looking man turned and left disappearing to a place within the ship, before quickly returning with three more bottles in hand. He tossed one to the knight, and the other to John before motioning toward the floor to sit somewhere. 

“Well lad,” The pirate said. “I welcome ya to the Adventure. She's a fine enough sloop if ya ignore the damage, she's seen the horrors battle not too long ago.” 

His accent was strange, it sounded British but quite unlike the accents he had heard from British people on the radio. John had to listen carefully to catch everything he was saying but caught the jist of it. The pirate didn't seem to be drunk but he was certainly buzzed and upon closer inspection he too had seen battle. His clothes were ragged and down and he swore there were a few bullet holes. The man fell quiet for a moment before speaking. 

“Ah hell, I've been damn rude. Introductions are in order. The name's Edward, Edward Teach. A pleasure. If ya don't mind me asking lad, your clothes look military. Who might you be?”

John nodded. “You're right. John Basilone, I'm a Gunnery Sergeant in the United States Marine Corps.” 

“Marine?” Teach repeated. “Don't look like any marine I've ever seen. Don't look like a dressed up bird... What's this 'United States' anyway?” 

Basilone raised an eyebrow. “The United States of America, ring any bells old man?” 

“Watch who ya call old man lad,” He warned. “You're from the colonies? Never heard of them being united except under the crown of course.” 

“The colonies? Now I don't know what you're talking about.”

The pirate sighed. “You're from America and you speak English lad. That means you're from the colonies, but you don't look like any royal marine.” 

That statement struck a chord with John. Something was starting to tell him there was more to their communications error than simple misunderstanding. 

“Wait, wait, tell me something,” John said. “How did you get here?”   
Edward nodded. “I was out on an island with my crew. Sailing had been good lately so we decided to have a little celebration me and the lads. But the damn royals caught us unaware. Fought long as we could the ole Adventure gave it her best but it wasn't good enough. We got boarded and they cut us down one by one. Fought long as I could before I finally fell. Next thing I know I'm in a white hall with the Adventure chasing after me. Some pipe smoking bastard was staring at me like a prick and I threatened to gut him unless he told me what happened. The bastard just wrote something down and then a damn door sucked me up like Davy Jones himself.” 

“So you saw him too,” John said. “What year was it? When it happened?” 

“Year?” Edward mumbled. “Damn well must've been 1718. Hard to say, I've been stuck on this island for god knows how long by myself. That moody bastard over there's been my only company for the last few days. Then you showed up.” 

“I see,” John motioned toward the knight. “What's your story?” 

The man simply stared at him. He muttered something quietly before returning to his drink. 

“Don't bother,” Teach said. “Bastard doesn't speak a lick of english. He's been babbling god knows what for a while but I keep telling him I don't know a damn thing of what he's trying to say. Only been able to catch his name or something keeps calling himself 'Vlad'.” 

At the sound of his name the knight looked toward them and nodded as if reintroducing himself. The name Vlad sounded familiar to John but what exactly was familiar about it avoided him for some time. He decided in honest fairness to recall his own story of how he fought at Iwo Jima and died, likewise seeing the strange man at the desk. The marine and pirate came to the conclusion that Vlad had a similar experience he seemed to grow tense at the mention of the hallway and man. 

“Well I'd say we're in an odd spot lad,” Edward said after a pause. “But I still want to know how'd the colonies leave the crown?” 

John shrugged. “During the revolution. Everyone knows it, colonist rebelled and fought the crown.” 

“Fought the crown?” Edward mused before laughing. “And how'd that go for them?”

“Well I'm here,” John said. “I'm no history teacher. Something about the French helping made the British give it up and gave us independence. Makes no difference to me how It happened, my family didn't move to America till long after it happened from Italy.” 

“Well I'll be damned.. Beating the crown and being free. Sounds like Nassau, much cleaner I reckon.” 

The pirate and marine sat in silence for a long moment. Vlad stood up and began pacing around the deck muttering something only too himself. Edward followed him for a moment when a sly smile suddenly crossed his face. 

“Well then, Basilone. Since you got nowhere to go how about I make ya a business proposal?” 

“Proposal?” John asked. 

“How'd you like to get off this damn island?” Edward said. “I couldn't do it with just me and ole Vlad over there, but between the three of us I reckon we can get the ole Adventure moving again. How's that sound to ya lad?”

John fell silent for a moment. Musing on what to do next he looked back toward the island, filled with life yet barren. Then he looked out into the sea ahead of them, it would be dangerous and he still couldn't be sure if it was safe traveling with a pirate and the strange knight. But what other choice was there? He couldn't rely on orders, or suggestions anymore. It was a familiar choice between safety and throwing himself back into the fray. If it meant finding answers, perhaps danger was the only real choice after all.

“Alright, I'm in. What's the plan Teach?”


	3. Chapter 2: Brave New World

_Chapter 2: Brave New World_

 

Teach's plan was relatively simple in concept but the actual execution would prove a far more daunting prospect. They would wait for nightfall when the tide was at its highest and sail the Adventure out into open waters in search of civilization by sticking close to land and looking for signs of life. A dangerous prospect but it was the only plan available to them with the lack of options. The first hurdle of the plan however was getting the Adventure sea worthy again.

 Though her hull was mercifully still afloat and Teach was sure it would be able to handle the ocean once again the same could not be said for the upper deck. Ropes were cut and the sails were battered from her final battle that brought the loud pirate to their strange new home. Though over his time alone Edward had searched out materials to patch up the sails and repair the broken ropes. All he needed was someone nimble enough to join him in climbing up the mast and tackle such a job together. Unfortunately for John, that nimble volunteer would be him, though he was no stranger to climbing, the heights of climbing the mast of even a vessel the size of the humble sloop proved more hazardous than he was comfortable with.

 As for Vlad, John was surprised to learn that the language barrier was less of an issue than the drunken pirate initially let on. The 'babbling' Teach referred too John was surprised to find out was him experimenting with several languages the reason he and Teach were able to communicate at all was because Vlad was speaking latin. Teach mentioned during their work he once studied to be an aristocrat and picked up some of the language, John was impressed with the pirate's knowledge of language English, Spainish and even a few African dialects that were foreign to Basilone. John had heard his fair share of latin growing up but he found himself unable to communicate efficiently with the armored knight.

  _Should've paid more attention in sunday school,_ The thought crossed Basilone's mind bitterly.

 While John and Edward repaired the ship, Vlad returned to land to seek out a meal after he proved unwilling to part with his armor and climb up to work. John spotted the knight kiss a small cross he had tied around his neck before he quickly descended from the Adventure and returned to land.

 The work was tedious and time consuming, despite his seemingly drunken state Teach was surprisingly thorough in his oversight of the repair work. No hole was too small to be ignored, no rope was unnecessary, everything had to be in order to ensure the Adventure would be able to sail as swiftly.

 “She's down to a crew of three,” Teach sighed. “We can't have accidents while at sea. If we lose control at sea we'd have been better off living and dying on this island.”

 John was many things but a sailor was not one of them. The ships of his time were practically floating buildings compared to the Adventure, yet the small ship proved far more complex than he ever could have assumed seeing such similar vessels in books. Edward's concern of crew was something that troubled him as well, would they be able to maneuver the ship properly? He knew enough from his general knowledge to remember that sailing ships tended to have fairly sizable crews for their small size.

 They heard a shout from the beach which indicated the return of Vlad. He was carrying two animals over his shoulder which indicated a successful hunt. Teach decided that the time had come for a break and they climbed down to meet Vlad for what was potentially their final dinner on the island.

John found himself given pause when he saw Vlad's prize. “Are those pigs?”

 

“Porcus, certe.” Vlad said.

 

“How the hell did they get all the way out here?”

 

“They're the reason we're risking this venture lad,” Teach said excited. “if this place is anything like home pigs aren't native to these parts. It means they jumped off passing ships or swam.”

 

“Swam?”

 

“Yes lad. Crafty buggers pigs are, they spread all over the new world that way. Makes for good eating if you're lucky to find some.”

 

Dinner was a simple dish, strips of cooked pork from the two dead hogs. John and Teach quietly made conversation about nothing in particular it was hard to figure out what to discuss between two men from completely different times. And John could tell Teach was as pained by thoughts of home as he was himself so they made due with talking about average subjects.

 

“Sky looks clear,” John muttered. “That a good sign?”

 

“Aye, just pray for good wind tonight. We'll need speed to escape this sand and get some depth.”

 

“So, we get out to water,” John said. “What then?”

 

“We stick close to the islands, move up the chain. Look for signs of life, fires, buildings, ships.” Teach mused. “And then? Then lad, we get answers.”

 

“And if they're a threat?”

 

Teach fell quiet. “Ever killed before Basilone?”

 

“Kill?” John said. He thought of Guadalcanal, Iwo Jima. “Yeah... I've killed alright.”

 

 “Then ya best put those weapons of yours to good use,” Teach said with a smile. “Cheer up lad, we'll make a sailor out of ya, yet.”

 

…..

 Though more time consuming than either of them had expected they managed to make their deadline for repairing the Adventure. By the time John and Edward descended from the mast once more they looked, well rather ugly to be frank. Vlad had apparently made a sarcastic comment which Edward caught and a brief shouting match broke out until John brought out some rum to celebrate and wash down the pork.

 As the sun disappeared and the moon became more prominent in the sky, John swore the moon looked different he couldn't tell exactly but it seemed wrong to his eye but perhaps it was just the situation putting him on edge. The long wait began as Edward took the helm, Vlad and John remained on the deck to help maneuver the ship and to raise and lower sails when needed. The air was tense all three men were on edge waiting for the moment of truth. John felt the slightest humor in that of all of the emotions he felt in this seemingly endless day, that tension was the most familiar thing he felt all day.

 Finally, fortune struck when the trees began to rustle and the howl of wind could be heard.

 

“There it is lads!” Edward shouted. “Hoist the sails! We're away!”

 

Vlad and John rushed to open up the Adventure's freshly patched up sails. Almost immediately they expanded as they caught the wind the entire deck seemed to shift suddenly as the ship was pulled forward. John was no stranger to ships but it felt quite different from the feeling of being on a propeller driven ship. As each sail was opened more wind was caught they picked up speed rapidly, the Adventure dragged against the sand initially causing the entire hull to rumble.

 

 “She'll hold, she'll hold!” Roared Teach. “More sail damn you!”

 

 A final bounce that sent Vlad and John tumbling on the deck caused the pirate captain to roar with laughter, the Adventure's rumbling ceased which indicated they were finally in open water. John looked back to see their temporary island growing more distant with each passing minute. Though they were headed into the darkness, he couldn't help but feel the slightest relief at being on the move once again.

 The beginning of their voyage was quiet, were it not for the constant running back and forth to maneuver the Adventure, John feared he might have grown bored quite some time ago. The archipelago they had appeared in was far larger than any of them men had initially expected but they did not dare to move away from it. Edward warned that the open seas would be a death sentence without a proper map to guide them.

 

“The sea's a labyrinth, Basilone, underestimate her and you'll die a dogs death.”

 

….

 

By the time daylight slowly creeped over the ocean, the Adventure was still slowly continuing the search for signs of life. John stood at the front of the deck keeping lookout for signs of islands, they were growing more sparser and yet the seemed to grow larger with each passing one. None of the party had taken any breaks or rested, they refused too. Stopping to rest now would only mean slowing their progress speed was the key to Teach's plan they would search until their bodies refused to move any longer, that was the agreement and neither John or Vlad seemed to argue.

 As they reached more open waters the ocean seemed to grow more mysterious, John had not paid it much mind back on the island but much of the wildlife seemed strange particularly out at sea. The fish didn't look like anything he had seen in the Pacific Ocean, the birds sounded completely foreign but perhaps the most shocking sight occurred when they were approaching one of the larger islands.

 A sudden puff of water and air startled the scanning marine, he looked over greeted with the sight of what appeared to be a group of whales. Vlad and Edward also found their eyes drawn to the whale, because one of the giant mammals was bleeding. A loud shriek rang from the air from the bleeding whale, noticeably smaller than its companion which disappeared into the water after taking a breath.

 The wounded whale let out another shriek and appeared to be struggling to swim from its injuries when letting out several cries before it began to rise into the air being carried by a massive set of jaws which belonged to the second whale. There was a mighty sound of slamming water and more cries until a small portion of the water turned into a sea of blood. The men watched with a brief momentary awe before they slowly returned to their task.

 

 “Ever seen something like that before?” John said.

 

 “World's a cruel mistress Basilone,” Teach shrugged. “But I've never seen a whale quite that big before. The beast is fed for now let's hope it doesn't take notice of us.”

 

 “Yeah. Here's hoping.”

 

 Vlad was the one to spot the next island and something had clearly caught his attention as he called it out with more energy. John quickly rushed over to see what he spotted and checked for himself, the island was large perhaps the largest one yet covered and trees and what appeared to be a small mountain slowly growing on the back covered with plant life. He asked Vlad what he spotted and he nodded toward the island and repeated a word.

 “What do we have gentlemen?”

 “Vlad spotted something,” John replied. “He, uh, keeps saying 'fumas' ring any bells?”

 “Smoke?” Edward said. “Ha! Vlad's got himself a good eye there.”

 John could not help but be cheered though it was only a small chance, smoke was the best evidence they had since they began their voyage, plus a small part of him wished to be on land after witnessing the giant whale's hunt being away from water would be a comfort. Teach set course for the island and John and Vlad moved quickly to raise the sails to slow the ship. It was careful work they had to maintain speed but slow down enough to come to a complete stop. But Vlad and John were swift despite not being sailors and Edward was quite comfortable behind the rudder.

 Before long they were dropping anchor in front of a large beach. All three of them stood next to each other peering through telescopes. The beach was barren there seem to be no signs of life even tracks were hard to spot from the Adventure.

 “Don't see anything,” John said. “What do you think Teach?”

 “Well, it's worth a look in any case. This island looks large enough to have its own water, we need to rest as often as we can. No sense is wasting away. Still if there's something here, they're doing a clever job of hiding.”

 After a brief conversation with Vlad it seemed he also agreed with Edward's conclusion. They worked together to lower a rowboat into the calm waters below and all three climbed down. After a brief debate, Edward and John found themselves rowing the boat onto shore, a watchful Vlad keeping his eyes on the beach ahead.

 When they reached land they quickly jumped out and worked together to pull the rowboat out of the surf to avoid it being dragged into sea. John found the peaceful landing somewhat amusing, the quiet landing was almost alien compared to the hellish conditions of Iwo Jima.

 Their expedition had begun the moment the rowboat was secured. They assembled their gear, John checked over his carbine making sure it was clean and at the ready. Vlad and Edward settled for their swords, but the pirate never the less made an effort to make sure all of his pistols were loaded. Vlad eyed the firearms curiously but made no effort to inquire about them, John assumed that Edward's Latin wasn't good enough to provide details.

 The tropic forest that stood in front of them seemed less choking than the one from the island they had arrived on. Something about it felt open and it was much rockier and that the sand seemed to end at the beach turning into more familiar soil ahead.

 “Keep close lads and keep yer eyes peeled.”

 

…

 Teach took the lead while Vlad and John followed in that order they attempted to stick to a pseudo line formation so all three could keep watch equally. Though there were no obvious signs of life, John kept his eyes peeled on the area around him, the first lesson a marine learns in combat is never to grow too comfortable there was something around every corner. He noticed a similar tension from Vlad while the pirate captain seemed oddly at ease there was an air of confidence from him.

“Watch your step Teach,” Basilone warned. “Could be booby traps.”

“Booby traps? Bah, I know plenty about booby traps lad.” Teach said. “Don't you worry about me.”

They stumbled upon what was perhaps their first sign of life, subtle but anyone could tell that the path they followed through the vegetation had been cleared out by something too large to be a simple animal. But the path was well hidden, plants blanketed it and any tracks were clearly wiped away the evidence that they were not alone here.

They crept forward their progression slowing the more progress they made. There was a growing sense of unease amongst them all, their steps became more cautious. They made an effort to keep as quiet as possible. John felt a growing dread in his gut, the kind of feeling almost supernatural in its own way, the feeling of being watched. And there was an overwhelming wrongness that stood out to them all.

“Silentium.” Vlad said in a whisper.

John and Edward had noticed it too an overwhelming silence the animals had gone quiet, the songs of the birds had stopped. Only the rustle of the wind remained as it passed through the vegetation, they moved closer to each other forming a circle scanning their surroundings. John slowly raised his carbine keeping it stead just as-

There was a sudden whistling sound, one John had never heard before. Vlad was the first to react grabbing John and throwing him to the ground just as an arrow sailed passed where he once stood. There was a rush of noise, John could see figures moving in the vegetation around him shouts and cries. He tightened his gripped and braced himself to lift up his carbine.

“STOP!”

The roar of Edward's voice was startling. Vlad and John froze in place, as did the figures that surrounded them, he could make them out with only the slightest detailed they were wearing armor and armed with an assortment of weapons they certainly looked nothing like the tribal islanders he had come to expect to live on such an island. Teach was the only one who remained standing his hand was on his pistol and his sword was raised, their welcoming party seemed to have appeared from every direction and they were clearly outnumber. Edward looked around sighed and took his hands off his pistol and dropped his sword.

“Lads, we're not here for a fight,” He said. “They haven't killed us yet. Don't give em reason too.”

Vlad seemed to catch what Teach was implying. He frowned before dropped his own blade and raising his hands into the air. John remained on the ground he could see the attackers shifting if he moved even slightly, he could take a few shots maybe scare them off but he could not be certain of it. If Vlad or Edward got caught in the panic, there was no telling the chaos that would unfold. He hated to admit it but the old pirate was right, there was no way out. He did what any marine would do when caught in such a situation.

Dropped his carbine and then swore as loudly as he could before raising up his arms in surrender.

 


End file.
